


His Best Suit

by ashes0909, FestiveFerret, SirSapling



Category: Marvel, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: M/M, Pining, Realizations, Repression, Staring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15520116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirSapling/pseuds/SirSapling
Summary: It doesn't seem to matter which suit Tony is in, Steve can't stop staring.





	His Best Suit

**Author's Note:**

> We collaborated together to fill our "My Best Suit" square - hope you enjoy!

**~Birthday Suit~**

Steve adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, juggling the folders in one arm and his shield in the other. He turned to push the door to the locker room open with his hip, shuffling in awkwardly, so as not to drop any of his precarious collection of things. The room was filled with voices which was unusual. This locker room and the attached gym was for all the Ultimates, but Steve and Clint were the only ones who tended to use it.

And when Steve pushed open the door, it was Clint who was standing in front of the showers, his back to Steve, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet.

"- was complete luck!" Clint called out.

The answer drew Steve's attention to the row of lockers along the far wall.

"You would say that."

Steve turned on his heel and froze. Tony stood by the bench, waving his tie expressively in one hand. And he was completely naked.

Steve had seen plenty of naked men in his life - he'd been in the army - but they'd all been grimy, bloodied, and ungroomed, deep in the heart of battle. Tony was anything but. He was always impeccably manicured, from what Steve could normally see, but now it was clear that his whole body was as carefully groomed as his hair and nails. It seemed that the clippers didn't stop at Tony's chin, and Steve was momentarily stunned to realize that it was even possible to trim your hair "down there" without - uh - damage...

It was also undeniably clear that Steve had been underestimating the effort Tony put into his physique. His body was lean but sturdy, and his bare legs showed off thick cords of muscle sculpted from more than just piloting the suit. The arm Tony spun the tie around flexed as it bent, in a way that Tony's suit jackets and silk robes never highlighted. A flash of guilt heated in Steve's stomach when he thought about how easily he dismissed Tony as the weakest and softest of all of them. Tony's naked body, rippling with muscle, was clear evidence that it wasn't true.

"See something you like?" Tony asked, and Steve's eyes snapped to his. Tony was smirking at him.

A hot flush spread up the back of Steve's neck, and he opened his mouth but no words came out. How was he supposed to explain that he'd been admiring Tony's body out of nothing but confusion and surprise without it sounding weird?

"Steve?" Tony tilted his head in Steve's direction, amusement shifting into concern.

"Sorry," Steve muttered. "Didn't sleep well last night." Steve brushed past him and dumped his stuff on the bench, not turning around until both Clint and Tony were dressed and gone, laughing and talking as they pushed out of the locker room.

**~Swimsuit~**

Two weeks into the unrelenting summer heat, Tony invited them to the pool. It was a foregone conclusion before he even finished the question--anything to rinse away the persistent layer of sweat that stuck his t-shirt to his chest.

And not just his chest. Tony was as affected as the rest of them by the summer heat. It was hard not to notice when he waltzed through the poolhouse, drink in hand, and somehow managed to disrobe into just a speedo without spilling a drop. A bead of sweat rolled down his back, twisting between the muscles. It looked like something out of a painting, the sun catching the glow of it as he led them outside.

Steve had noticed, more and more, the objective artistry of Tony’s features, but he hadn’t been thinking about it when he agreed to go to the pool. Now, he found he couldn’t focus on anything but the man in the black square-cut swimsuit. Steve tread water idly in the deep end. Thor and Clint were on the opposite side of the pool playing with a volleyball. Outside the pool, Tony lifted a can to spray suntan oil on his skin, and all Steve could think about was how he once saw Tony completely naked in the locker room.

Steve dunked his head underwater and started to swim some laps, needing to clear his head. Between breaststrokes he heard a splash and knew it was Tony jumping into the pool. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve watched him join Thor and Clint in their game.

A few more vigorous laps cleared his mind, for the most part, and he wanted to join the others, so he pushed off the edge and made for the group. When his foot hit the shallower floor, Tony’s cell phone started ringing.

“Crap, that’s Happy’s ringtone,” Tony sighed, splashing past Steve as he made his way to the stairs. Steve’s eye followed him, like they’d been doing the entire afternoon. It wasn’t until Tony burst out of the water that Steve realized he’d been holding his breath too.

Water fell down Tony in streams, torrents slicing from his hair over his face and neck. When he stepped onto the top step, he shook his head, a small smile accompanying the movement. The water continued its journey down, and Steve watched as it slid through the thin layer of Tony's chest hair, so different from Steve’s own. He found himself absentmindedly brushing his hand over his own chest under the surface, mimicking the trail of droplets.

In two more steps, Tony was out of the pool and on his phone. The water didn’t seem to bother him, he just let it rundown his body and puddle at his feet. When Steve realized he was staring at the curve of Tony’s legs, he snapped his gaze back up to the man’s face and saw that he'd been caught.

Tony winked and continued his phone call.

**~Business Suit~**

**~The Armor~**

The mission was over. That usually meant they went their separate ways, decompressing before regrouping, but the Iron Man armor had been distracting during the battle and seemed to be after, as well. Steve had always found it impressive, but now, when he looked at it, he imagined the long hours Tony had put into making it, and it made him want to catalogue every detail himself.

In the middle of the mission was not the time to appreciate, but now that they were back in the Triskelion, and there weren't lasers and hand-to-hand combat around every corner, Steve could let himself focus.

The armour moved like Tony, even when every inch of him was obscured. Steve followed him down the hallway, eyes latching onto the easy way the joints slid and the metal panels fit together. It really was a marvel of engineering. Steve was vaguely aware of the rest of the team peeling off towards the debrief, but he followed Iron Man all the way to the hangar bay,

Tony locked the suit in its dock and it hissed as the pressurized metal released. A technician pulled his helmet off. The green goo that filled the armour stuck to Tony's face, sliding down his neck, but Tony ignored it, his mouth moving a mile a minute the second his face was revealed. Steve fended off memories of water sliding over his shoulders as he pushed out of the pool, the pull of his fitted suit jacket around his lean, muscular waist.. The locker room--

“So, what do you think?” Tony asked, because why else would Steve have followed him here if not to talk tactics?

But Steve had no idea what Tony was asking, utterly distracted by the way a series of gears twisted and unlocked to release Tony's bare arms from the armour's gauntlets. He hummed, and it was enough affirmation for Tony to continue his monologue.

The technicians reached down, and Steve's breath caught. He couldn't say why, because he was too busy watching the chest plate be pulled away. The gel had stuck Tony's thin, white undershirt to his chest, making it look sheer from the moisture, or maybe it was sweat, but either way, it made the fabric cling to the skin of his stomach.

“Steve?”

Tony may've been asking him a follow-up question, or inquiring as to why he was staring at Tony's half naked body, but it didn't matter because before Steve could think it through, he sputtered out a a flimsy excuse, more random consonants than actual words, and walked out the room.

Behind him he thought maybe he heard Tony's amused snort.

  
**~Space Suit~**

Tony turned and threw his arms wide, showing off the spacesuit like it was haute couture. His grin tapered off when Steve couldn't manage anything but a scowl in return. "What's wrong?" Tony asked, his voice tinny and strange through the speaker on the suit.

"This seems unnecessarily dangerous," Steve managed to get out. He couldn't stop his feet from tapping against the concrete floor. The rest of the crew and flight technicians were far enough away that they couldn't hear them, spared them no glance, but Steve couldn't help the need to look up and check, the heat that threatened his cheeks.

Tony chuckled behind the glass of his helmet, shuffling forward into Steve's space. "Well, you slept through the moon landing, so it's all got to be a bit startling." He reached out and squeezed Steve's arm just above the elbow. His glove was huge and puffy, but Steve could still feel the grip of his fingers underneath. "I just need to pop up and do some magic with the satellite. I'll be back in a jiffy."

Steve's scowl deepened. He reached out and rapped a knuckle on the clear bulb of Tony's helmet. Tony looked down for a moment, hands opening and closing, and then the glass slid back, revealing Tony's face. Steve felt a little of the tension slip out of his shoulders. "You looked like you were in a fish bowl."

But Tony didn't laugh. Instead, his brow creased and he leaned in even closer, eyes flicking back and forth over Steve's face. "Tell me what's wrong," he said quietly.

But how was Steve supposed to explain that looking had become admiring, had become desiring? That even in this clunky, unflattering space suit, Tony was still the only thing in the room Steve wanted to look at? He didn't have words for any of it, but he also couldn't let Tony go without something.

When the moment softened and spread out but didn't break, Steve bent forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth, enough cheek that they could write it off as friendship, enough lips that Tony could seize what Steve was offering but couldn't ask for out loud.

When he pulled back, Tony's eyes were closed. He broke into a smile, eyes fluttering open. "Really?" he asked quietly.

Steve shrugged one shoulder, feeling immensely put on the spot. "Don't die in space, Stark."

"Oh, Steve." Tony reached out and settled a hand on Steve's hip, leaning in. Steve let himself be drawn into another kiss, a proper one this time. "Now, that was a 'don't die in space, Stark' kiss," Tony proclaimed.

"Is that all it was?" Steve couldn't help but ask.

"Nah, it was a promise too." Tony winked. "I'm coming back for another one."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
